tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-328647302018-02-17T12:01:12.155-05:00Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E.Please exercise caution when riding the escalator. Hold handrails and exit promptly upon reaching the landing.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.comBlogger631125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-30896582142913055922018-02-17T11:10:00.001-05:002018-02-17T12:01:12.214-05:00My Meditation Chops<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9xOH_LkoN_8/WohTG4ZECcI/AAAAAAABBQc/LGJqkZ0ggSwvbqJa1lJ0X4-P5vYc23cnACLcBGAs/s1600/meditation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9xOH_LkoN_8/WohTG4ZECcI/AAAAAAABBQc/LGJqkZ0ggSwvbqJa1lJ0X4-P5vYc23cnACLcBGAs/s320/meditation.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image credit:&nbsp;http://axtschmiede.com/meditation-2/</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I’m a half decent meditator. I know this quantitatively.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>In December, 2014, I attended a digital health trade show and purchased a <a href="http://amzn.to/2FclxQ4" target="_blank">headband which tracks brainwaves while meditating</a>. Then it gives you an EEG style reading after you’re done, including a score. So if you’re me, you can get all competitive about it.&nbsp; </div><div><br /></div><div>A couple Fridays ago, I met this very large party of Buddhists drinking at the Rubin Museum happy hour. One of them was also a vegan wearing a shirt with a giant fluorescent green Under Armor logo emblazoned across the front of it. It vibrated my eyeballs, this logo. I would not have expected a vegan Buddhist to sport such a large area of fluorescence. That’s one stereotype debunked. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, subsequent to two bourbon on the rocks, generously poured, I decided to become a Buddhist. Then I read up on it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Buddhists are all about not suffering. Because not suffering is a synonym for happiness. And how you avoid suffering is to quit craving things. You stop with the expectations already, because if you don’t have something, you want it, and if you have it, you worry about losing it. The idea is that you regard everything as impermanent and unnecessary. </div><div><br /></div><!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?--> <br /><div>I get the drift. But I have to tell you, I like my things. I like to put on my purple robe in the morning and furry slippers with memory soles. I like to swan about the house carrying my new <a href="http://amzn.to/2FbTwbA" target="_blank">ember mug</a> that keeps my tea at a constant temperature. (Tom got it for me for valentines day because he's romantic like that.) Then I like to change into daywear and log everything in the app I use to amortize my wardrobe. I find this whole process very pleasing.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>I wonder if this kind of possession obsession is kosher with the Buddhists. Probably not.&nbsp;</div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-8295663212406558542018-02-06T22:02:00.003-05:002018-02-06T22:23:13.042-05:00Books I would totally read<div>An Introduction to Elvish</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The Summer Solstice: Your Minute-by-Minute Companion</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The World of Fountain Pens</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Memento Mori: A Coffee Table Book<br /><i>also its sequel: </i>Dead Things on the Sidewalk</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Zagat's Guide to Peculiar Lip Balms</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The next book by <a href="http://amzn.to/2nRA37A" target="_blank">Patrick Rothfuss</a>. Seriously man, get on with it.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qQK6sulfcNo/WnpsSnyJJCI/AAAAAAABBLI/R_szOVBDib0yKTxm8-Es89reiMTlQR-3wCLcBGAs/s1600/the_name_of_the_wind_cover_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="349" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qQK6sulfcNo/WnpsSnyJJCI/AAAAAAABBLI/R_szOVBDib0yKTxm8-Es89reiMTlQR-3wCLcBGAs/s200/the_name_of_the_wind_cover_.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-39476013421797510002018-01-31T21:37:00.001-05:002018-01-31T21:38:55.122-05:00Grammy R's Eulogy<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hdi07l06Irs/WnJ7ipyGwoI/AAAAAAABAgI/EQLWjFIBosISBroRmzz9KRfaszy0uOVPwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_5311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="322" height="286" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hdi07l06Irs/WnJ7ipyGwoI/AAAAAAABAgI/EQLWjFIBosISBroRmzz9KRfaszy0uOVPwCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_5311.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here's to you, Grammy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1920-2018</div><br /><br />You always think you have more time. Time to listen to the stories once more, time to record them. Time to relax into the moment and not yada yada yada, get on with it we've heard this one a thousand times already.<br /><br />Here's what I had the great privilege to say at Grammy R's funeral last week:<br /><br /><div>Grammy is the stuff of legends. Every one of you is thinking of ten things or a hundred things she said to you that no one else would have ever said to you. Every day of her life she was full-on, unfiltered Grammy. But if someone's last name wasn’t the same as hers... Watch out. They'd need to go through her to get to one of us. She was our staunchest ally. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are 3 pillars of Grammy. Three overriding themes that she could weave into every statement, story or conversation. Grammy was a master at staying on message. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>#1 - Ample <a href="https://www.thefreedictionary.com/kvelling" target="_blank">kvelling</a></b> - She might get up in your business one-on-one, but out of doors, if Grammy had anything to do with it— we’re all pretty amazing. She wasted no opportunity to squeeze in a little one-upsmanship, or let everyone know about the vast successes we may or may not have achieved, our championship trophies, her talented great-grandchildren who are smart and beautiful and occasionally mischievous young sprouts. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>#2 - A flexible view on facts. </b>Grammy had an unsurpassed ability to add and subtract and rearrange the facts to her liking. It was truly a gift.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div><b>#3 - Grammy could hold a grudge.</b> You cause offense to her or her family and she won’t forget it. She had a mind like a steel trap and sixty years later she could tell you all the details leading up to the slight. </div><div><br /></div><!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?--> <br /><div>I was looking thru a pile of papers yesterday, trying to find something to talk about today. And I stumbled across a note I took… she told me a story (again) and this time I ran home and typed it out. But I want to retell this story, because it perfectly exemplifies all three pillars of grammy. I can hear her voice, that thick Bronx accent that just would not soften no matter how long she lived out of state.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;">The whole thing was over a dog - there was a lost dog.&nbsp;It was Fred (your father) and Frankie Latino and Stevie Schlackman. They got a reward for finding the dog. $3. Stevie wouldn’t give the other two any of the money. So Fred and Frankie beat him up.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;">I get a call from the school principal, Mrs. Bloom.&nbsp;It seems that the mother, Stevie’s mother, made a complaint that Fred beat up Stevie. <i>And&nbsp;Fred didn’t even beat Stevie up at the school</i>, he beat him up in front of our house. This Mrs. Bloom, she was a bigot.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;">So I go to the school. Mrs Bloom the principal gets out the boys' report cards. She says, "I don’t understand how Fred beat up such a smart boy. "</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;">She pulls out Fred’s report card. "Oh, Fred is a <span style="text-decoration-line: underline;"><i>very</i></span> smart boy... Well. He can go home."</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;">And I understand&nbsp;Stevie Schlakman turned out to be a nothing. Frankie is a doctor. Just like your father.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;"><br />Rosetta, Stevie’s mother, she was a good friend of mine. I never spoke with her again, her doing something like this.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><br />1,2,3. Grammy hit all her points as efficiently as always. She dedicated her entire life to us.<br />Thank you for everything, Grammy.<br /><br /><br /><div style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"></div></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-608067159393852292018-01-04T20:49:00.000-05:002018-01-04T20:49:17.964-05:00Skiing in -14 sub-freezing antarctic conditions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D2Eelmlu41Q/Wk7YkJ42A7I/AAAAAAAA-ss/sF0Txv7askkwbJ1IuKoEUu5QRImKdVkkQCLcBGAs/s1600/skivermont.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="197" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D2Eelmlu41Q/Wk7YkJ42A7I/AAAAAAAA-ss/sF0Txv7askkwbJ1IuKoEUu5QRImKdVkkQCLcBGAs/s1600/skivermont.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I knew I wasn’t in the city anymore. Not only because it’s -14 up here in VT where we’re skiing, but because I saw a dog jogging up a snow-covered road. Just nonchalantly headed wherever he was going. WITHOUT BOOTIES.&nbsp; </div><div><br /></div><div>Skiing in -14 requires some wardrobe tricks which I haven’t quite figured out yet.&nbsp;</div><div><ul><li>I get the part where you open up 7 sets of hand-warmers and strategically line your long underwear with them.&nbsp;</li><li>Then there's the part where you smear of this greasy stuff on your nose that’s allegedly supposed to prevent frostbite.</li><li>Last comes the real battle: how to not lose your nose to frostbite while not fogging up your glasses. If you cover your nose, your glasses fog up. If you don’t cover your nose, you can’t feel your face after about 8 minutes but at least you can see where you’re going. It’s a tough choice. You can avoid this dilemma by remembering to pack contact lenses.</li></ul><div><br /></div></div><div>Pop forewent the glasses. We were standing at the bottom of a hill waiting for him and whooosh- he blows past. At an odd angle. “You would not believe it! My eyelashes froze together and I couldn’t see anything!" </div><div><br /></div><div>One further note: If you’re not going to wear glasses, stick a hand-warmer in your hat or something so your eyes don’t freeze shut. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dave L said he was skiing along and passed a guy. This is a big deal because Dave never passes anybody. So he was feeling pretty good— maybe sub-freezing temperatures are his special competitive advantage. Somewhere along the way, the guy catches up to Dave and mentions he had outpatient surgery yesterday. This dimmed the achievement somewhat, Dave said.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?--> <br /><div>On the way back from VT, we met up with Michelle and David for brunch. They had just come back from dog sledding. Those dogs didn’t have booties either. Or little sweaters. I saw the pictures to prove it.&nbsp;</div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-49769794371937239862017-11-30T22:43:00.002-05:002017-11-30T22:43:34.245-05:00NaBloPoMo Day 30I probably should find a gif of someone high-fiving herself. Or maybe a real quality dab or a Heisman maneuver. Meanwhile I'll crank up Ode to Joy super loud and the air shall erupt with sparkles. A smoke machine would be cool.<br /><br />Because this is -- drum roll please -- NaBlaPoMo #30. Count 'em kids. 30 posts, 30 days.<br /><br />*drops laptop and twerks twice*<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cN5NANNnXR4/WiDPX8G43hI/AAAAAAAA7SM/kQ_6J3V4ET0yI8-ZViBkIN2vVnK8F1r1QCLcBGAs/s1600/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="336" height="166" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cN5NANNnXR4/WiDPX8G43hI/AAAAAAAA7SM/kQ_6J3V4ET0yI8-ZViBkIN2vVnK8F1r1QCLcBGAs/s200/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-56218568839734394812017-11-29T22:04:00.003-05:002017-11-30T22:30:03.645-05:00Tom and the cat emojis - The Penultimate Day 29 of NaBloPoMo <div style="text-align: left;">Tom came home from work looking a little bewildered. I asked why.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4GGlFg9dyRM/Wh9zMIP_72I/AAAAAAAA7JE/9g54w4s2eZIKOS-28jR07TXRkifhs1vqwCEwYBhgL/s1600/ironman%2Bguy.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="940" height="268" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4GGlFg9dyRM/Wh9zMIP_72I/AAAAAAAA7JE/9g54w4s2eZIKOS-28jR07TXRkifhs1vqwCEwYBhgL/s320/ironman%2Bguy.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />"Remember that guy, the one I kept seeing at a bunch of triathlons? He's a real Ironman muscle guy. Very fast." said Tom.<br /><br />I nodded and had no idea where this was going.<br /><br />"We were swapping messages on facebook about a workout plan. He wrote that he'd coach me and it would only cost $5. I wasn't sure if he was kidding."<br /><br />I uh huh'ed.<br /><br />Tom goes on, "I didn't know what to write back. Seriously, what if he's only kidding? But then again, what if he's not kidding? I thought about my response for a really long time."<br /><br />This had to be going somewhere. You'd expect there'd be a story arc of some kind.<br /><br />"Finally I decided to write back 'I'm In!' with a smiley face. Then I'd wait to see what he replied. At that point, I should know if he's kidding."<br /><br />Right, right, I said. You'd expect you'd know at that point.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xJCGWpeUO7s/WiDMGCLIUbI/AAAAAAAA7SA/3SBD1xVtotwfEoxYdxU2tmIm2YKhEFEAgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1211" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xJCGWpeUO7s/WiDMGCLIUbI/AAAAAAAA7SA/3SBD1xVtotwfEoxYdxU2tmIm2YKhEFEAgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_5199.JPG" width="297" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is that a litterbox?</td></tr></tbody></table>"I was having trouble with my keyboard. I plugged it in and then I unplugged it and jiggled it around and finally it was working, so I sent my reply."<br /><br />That's good, I said. Sucks when ye olde keyboard is on the fritz.<br /><br />Tom shook his head. That wasn't his point. He says, "Here's the thing-- when I actually looked at what I sent, instead of sending 'I'm in!' I sent two cat emojis."<br /><br />Oh, I said.<br /><br />"I sent another message real quick, like 'I don't know how that happened!'<br />He hasn't written back yet."<br /><br />I laughed so hard the neighbors' dog started barking.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-71854813355722584662017-11-28T20:49:00.003-05:002017-11-28T20:49:56.314-05:00Peggle on the Big Screen - Nothing on the Small Screen - NaBloPoMo Day 28<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bbLxSD0K9FU/Wh4NGKp-10I/AAAAAAAA7IM/pGW3YIwktjcqfKdy-Yvwml8E9fDZ-4iaACLcBGAs/s1600/screenshot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="984" height="382" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bbLxSD0K9FU/Wh4NGKp-10I/AAAAAAAA7IM/pGW3YIwktjcqfKdy-Yvwml8E9fDZ-4iaACLcBGAs/s400/screenshot.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />It is true. We do play a lot of peggle on the big TV. Mostly when there's family and friends around because:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/eEpCvd-n5VE" width="480"></iframe><br /><br /><br />When you achieve great Peggle success, it's better when people you love are all around throwing pillows at your head.<br /><br />I considered getting a game of some kind on my phone - not peggle because once you go big screen you don't go back - but like Tetris or something. I heard a podcast where an expert said that Tetris is great to play in 5 minute increments during the day as sort of mini-yogic retreat. Let me restate - as a don't-have-to-move-your -lazy-ass kind of mini-yogic retreat. Sounds fine.<br /><br />But I never did pull the trigger on the download because I was appalled by the privacy policy or lack of privacy policy on every single game I looked at. No, I will not give you access to my camera and microphone at all times, thank you very much game-maker person.<br /><br />And so, that is the end of this story.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-75398229344191958192017-11-27T22:08:00.003-05:002017-11-27T22:08:40.408-05:00My gift from Ella - NaBloPoMo Day 27<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few years ago, my niece Ella gave me this necklace as a gift.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f9OwhJ-hynY/WhzSfhT_KpI/AAAAAAAA7Hg/A9DQp7DSXpY-qoVZjahQpeSLLP7UUz_WwCLcBGAs/s1600/EllaNecklace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f9OwhJ-hynY/WhzSfhT_KpI/AAAAAAAA7Hg/A9DQp7DSXpY-qoVZjahQpeSLLP7UUz_WwCLcBGAs/s400/EllaNecklace.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple months ago, just after her tenth birthday, she walked by my dresser, saw the necklace and said, "I can't believe I gave you a necklace with my own name on it, Aunt Stacey."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I said it's one of my favorite gifts because I smile every time I look at it.</div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-25241797901829989462017-11-26T16:29:00.002-05:002017-11-26T21:08:54.296-05:00Things that are Annoying - NaBloPoMo Day 26Last week, we were at that comedy show-- the one with the twenty comics stumbling around in the zone called "not ready for an audience." The host of the show opened with a bit about how she is wildly annoyed by people sipping their coffee from mason jars on the subway.<br /><br /><h3>Not #1: Coffee in Mason Jars</h3>I am not annoyed by people sipping their coffee from mason jars. It's a little hipster twee... like I wouldn't be surprised if I saw a unicorn sticker on the mason jar or some homage to beardsmanship. Even then, I wouldn't care.<br /><br /><h3>Also Not #1: Slow Walkers</h3>You can't have a list like this without the chestnut of all annoyances to kick shit off: Slow walkers in the city. I could say I'm annoyed by people walking slowly on the sidewalk, but the target of my annoyance has shifted. I'm now less annoyed relative to the individual persons engaged in the slow walking and more annoyed by the entire scenario of being trapped in the middle of a short-legged horde and occasionally bopped with a giant quilted handbag.<br /><br />My annoyance is tempered by the fact that I alone put myself on 5th Avenue in the fifties on a Sunday afternoon. So-- no. Slow walkers are not #1 on my Annoying List because I feel, to be truly annoying, the source of the annoyance has to be out of your own control.<br /><br /><h3>#1: Self-Righteously Annoyed Captions</h3>Here's something annoying that maybe I'll go with as a start: The Saturday after Thanksgiving, a facebook acquaintance posted a photo of a crowd. This crowd was huddled in front of the Starry Night painting at MoMA.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-59syxn6ycb4/Whsxx4VECmI/AAAAAAAA7EU/T6dWKs7ftfswoch8DYC9rRvTu02MPdH_wCLcBGAs/s1600/starrynight.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="252" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-59syxn6ycb4/Whsxx4VECmI/AAAAAAAA7EU/T6dWKs7ftfswoch8DYC9rRvTu02MPdH_wCLcBGAs/s1600/starrynight.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><br />This facebook person captioned her photo: "I hate people."<br /><br />I became annoyed by this caption.<br /><br />Seriously, dude. You go to MoMA the Saturday after Thanksgiving and you're shocked and amazed by the crush of tourists admiring probably the only painting they actually recognize in the whole damn museum. Go on Wednesday at in the middle of winter like any self-respecting New Yorker for chrissake we're all old enough to know better.<br /><br />Ok.<br /><br />Yeah, you're right.<br /><br />I should unfollow this person and, with a simple click, evaporate this annoyance. I'm re-thinking beginning my list with this one. Give me a do-over, ok?<br /><br /><h3>#1: Being asked for advice on how to sell personal hygiene products at a fair</h3>I'd call myself both annoyed and baffled in equal measure when someone asks me for advice on how to sell personal hygiene products to consumers who are attending a fair, when I have never sold personal hygiene products to consumers who are attending a fair.<br /><br />Yes, this is a good one to start with.<br /><h3><br />#2: Being asked again for advice on how to sell personal hygiene products at a fair</h3>It is yet more annoying when someone, someone to whom you've just explained you have no experience selling personal hygiene products at a fair, informs you that yes you have sold personal hygiene products: you did so at your first job out of college. <br /><br />You say, good memory, because your first job out of college went down almost thirty years ago and to the best of your recollection, at that job you weren't really selling personal hygiene products except in the most tangential way.<br /><br />And then the person you're conversing with replies that you were, in fact, highly successful at this job and they demand advice on how to sell personal hygiene products at a fair. Clearly you are withholding this crucial information because you are unhelpful and disagreeable.<br /><br /><br /><h3>#3: Someone who refuses to believe that you may not have been highly successful at your first job out of college, and who still wants your advice on how to sell personal hygiene products at a fair</h3>Let's just say at your first job out of college you would quit work everyday at around 2pm and pursue other endeavors that were not exactly conducive to on-the-job success. At best you were a B or B+ employee and it was definitely for lack of trying. It was also before the internet.<br /><br />So for #3, let's call it annoying when someone insists, even after all this, that they know or remember better than you, and you were in fact highly successful at your first job out of college. So could you write out some notes on how to best sell personal hygiene products at a fair.<br /><br /><br /><br />I suspect this is not what Sheryl whatsherface had in mind with her leaning in. She should write a chapter on what to do when someone chases you around with a "compliment" so they can force you to give advice on selling personal hygiene products at a fair.<br /><br /><br />I need to learn to smile and walk away is what I need to learn. My current strategy of backing away slowly and trying, but utterly failing, to be polite is clearly insufficient.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-44188848981672727352017-11-25T23:06:00.003-05:002017-11-26T13:02:08.790-05:00The guy in our building - NaBloPoMo Day 25I get in the elevator with a guy and his dog. I've seen him before. The elevator doors close. I wait, because I know something's coming. It doesn't take long. He says, "That's a gangsta handbag. Gangsta."<br /><br />I nod my head. My handbag is kind of gangsta. It has silver studs.<br /><br />I smile. The dog inches a little closer to me. The guy goes, "She likes the ladies." I pat the dog on the head.<br /><br />I get out on my floor.<br /><br />I just started reading <a href="http://amzn.to/2zE30ge" target="_blank">Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Letham</a> which is great. The hero has Tourettes. So on that day I figure out the guy in the elevator also has Tourettes.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-49530194384624990222017-11-24T20:53:00.001-05:002017-11-25T11:10:49.443-05:00Cards Against Humanity Snafu - NaBloPoMo Day 24<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-93dXXKdSVsI/WhjMTo7pRgI/AAAAAAAA7Dw/NSWX4iYS0T8xlYH2whoUVnPhXygZ0jzgwCLcBGAs/s1600/dearabby.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-93dXXKdSVsI/WhjMTo7pRgI/AAAAAAAA7Dw/NSWX4iYS0T8xlYH2whoUVnPhXygZ0jzgwCLcBGAs/s1600/dearabby.png" /></a>I think we have every set of Cards Against Humanity. Someone gave us the first few sets as a gift and then we bought a couple and then we got a few more as gifts. We have boxes and boxes. It's important that this be fully realized, because it's my main excuse.<br /><br />We have a pile of loosely child-friendly cards haphazardly jammed in a box lid. We break them out when we play with the niece, nephews, grandma and grandpa. These games are hilarious. The kids go giddy with laughter. One time Jack laughed so hard he went airborne. When he came back down, his little tushy crashed right through the bottom of a plastic lawn chair and he still has a scar. In other words, this is the perfect game for Thanksgiving family fun.<br /><br />However. As most know, neither Tom or I are known for our spectacular attention to detail. For example, today I inadvertently picked up the wrong box of cards for our game. Instead of the box of cards censored for the kids, I picked up a different one.<br /><br />It could have been a whole lot worse. I had a suspicion there might have been a mistake made when I got the "a slightly shittier parallel universe" card and Jack gave himself hiccups when he won a round after playing "That Ass."<br /><br />Grandma's eyebrows drilled through her forehead moments later. She clocked me on the forehead with two cards on the smutty side. She said, "I do not want to have to explain to anyone what these mean."<br /><br />Fast as lightening, I switched out the one box for the other box, but any cards people had in their hands remained in play.<br /><br />The next round, the question is, "No matter what, Anderson Cooper spends fifteen minutes every day with.... (blank)."<br /><br />Someone played "The Chronic."<br /><br />Ella wants to know what this is.<br /><br />Tom, Mary and I search each other's eyes for the right way to go about the explanation. Grandma jumps right in, "It's like heart disease or diabetes," she says. "Or like grandpa and his high cholesterol."<br /><br />That'll do.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qj6KdBZd_Lc/WhjMeq2deyI/AAAAAAAA7D4/NFieQefVfno-abUqpIjmOAXcmvHB_JU-ACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qj6KdBZd_Lc/WhjMeq2deyI/AAAAAAAA7D4/NFieQefVfno-abUqpIjmOAXcmvHB_JU-ACK4BGAYYCw/s200/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-19068499701355155332017-11-23T14:19:00.000-05:002017-11-25T22:26:19.832-05:00Practically Swiss - NaBloPoMo Day 23<div style="-en-clipboard: true;">Last week, Tom says he wishes his jeans were shorter in the legs, but he can't figure out where to get them hemmed.&nbsp;</div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><br /></div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;">I say go to the dry cleaner we always go to for pant hemming.&nbsp;</div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><br /></div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;">He says he does not want his jeans to look like they're hemmed. If the bottom seam isn't there, his jeans will look like denim slacks. That would be horrifying. Jeans should not look like denim slacks.&nbsp;</div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><br /></div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;">I say she has a trick, that old lady in the dry cleaner. She cuts off the bottom seam, clips a couple inches off the pant leg and then sews the bottom seam right back on. She’s fucking ingenious. I show him my jeans she hemmed and they definitively do not look like denim slacks.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><br /></div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;">Ten minutes later, Tom comes out of the bedroom wearing his too-long jeans, with another pair of jeans slung over his shoulder.&nbsp;</div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><br /></div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;">He says, “see how efficient I am? I’m going to wear these long jeans down to the dry cleaner. Then after the old lady does her measurements, I’m going to take them off and put on these other jeans. I’m practically Swiss.”&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nZpUkYzxuuk/Whce7GS6ylI/AAAAAAAA7CA/kxISMokJQqg5HRHH1cLAi11MugCYQWnGACLcBGAs/s1600/stock-photo-swiss-money-and-lottery-betting-slip-in-back-pocket-402527287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="1500" height="234" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nZpUkYzxuuk/Whce7GS6ylI/AAAAAAAA7CA/kxISMokJQqg5HRHH1cLAi11MugCYQWnGACLcBGAs/s320/stock-photo-swiss-money-and-lottery-betting-slip-in-back-pocket-402527287.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><br /></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-2603036502029575612017-11-22T21:07:00.000-05:002017-11-22T21:08:47.094-05:00New Blacksmithing Gloves - NaBloPoMo Day 22<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uzC2lnElD4c/WhYiqTVh4lI/AAAAAAAA7BE/vI1hbKE3_-QZfDoZvx3UfENO8GW0o0qQQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uzC2lnElD4c/WhYiqTVh4lI/AAAAAAAA7BE/vI1hbKE3_-QZfDoZvx3UfENO8GW0o0qQQCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_5174.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />I got these svelte new blacksmithing gloves the other day. Cool design, lots of black. Most of the blacksmithing gloves I've burned to a crisp during my tenure have been really industrially radioactive shades of blue, green and orange. These are certainly a step up.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1fchGL16O-Q/WhYlZr-0TDI/AAAAAAAA7BU/Q6H63LN0vH806dIat8KAEroyNCXR9PV5gCLcBGAs/s1600/gloves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1fchGL16O-Q/WhYlZr-0TDI/AAAAAAAA7BU/Q6H63LN0vH806dIat8KAEroyNCXR9PV5gCLcBGAs/s400/gloves.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the top photo above, you will notice my new gloves artfully displayed on my anvil. My anvil is a 150lb English Anvil. Tom got it for me for Christmas years ago and she's a beaut.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-yPxY-kQhE/WhYl44wKpQI/AAAAAAAA7Bk/BHTHNzUoyW8cFCzU_0dQAFMOgoxQEPp3ACLcBGAs/s1600/anvil-parts-txt-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="434" height="238" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-yPxY-kQhE/WhYl44wKpQI/AAAAAAAA7Bk/BHTHNzUoyW8cFCzU_0dQAFMOgoxQEPp3ACLcBGAs/s320/anvil-parts-txt-1.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit:&nbsp;http://www.blackiron.us/anvil-types.html</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br />I was glad Tom found me the anvil that he did because before that, I had made a terrible and super embarrassing error. I ordered an anvil online. There were problems right out of the box. Literally.<br /><br />Shipping tip: It's really hard to send an anvil in a cardboard box. I received an anvil, and then kind of separately, a beat up box with an anvil-sized hole in the bottom.<br /><br />Anyway, I was up at the Pig Iron Pig Roast and I happened to mention to one of the smiths that my anvil was getting rusty and had all these chips and dings in it already. The smith rolled his eyes, like a full three-hundred-and-sixty eye ball roll. He said, "You didn't get one of those Chinese anvils did you?"<br /><br />Well it turns out I did. I was mortified. And I can tell you from experience, Chinese anvils suck. They're cast iron. Not good. Not strong and no bounce. Also no hardy hole or pritchel hole and the horn is not round enough to actually make anything unless you're going for lumpy.<br /><br />A really high carbon steel face plate is key. You want to drop the hammer and have it bounce back so fast the back of it could clock you in the head if you're in there too tight. Which is, if you must know, the most common blacksmithing injury- hammering yourself in the head. I guess lots of blacksmiths do not have Chinese anvils.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5_SWHPLjDfk" width="480"></iframe><br /><br />Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-16998349114716227302017-11-21T21:34:00.002-05:002017-11-22T20:21:05.571-05:00The Adrenal Years - NaBloPoMo Day 21We were out to dinner with Wanda and Derek and I mentioned probably my favorite TV show ever. The entire show was one camera angle. Just a video camera sitting there. In a pen with a whole bunch of puppies. And in the back of the pen was an old school TV playing music videos.<br /><br />So you'd watch the music videos, but mostly you were watching the puppies doing puppy things and climbing around on the TV. It was great. It was on from maybe 3:30AM to 5. I watched it all the time. Wanda and Derek both agreed it sounded like terrific television.<br /><br />Tom calls 2000-2002 'the adrenal years.' I had two adrenal glands back then, one of them going full throttle 24/7. Basically this amounted to not sleeping much. I got a lot done, but the neighbors didn't like me. There's only so many nights they'll stand for someone being up at 4am drilling holes in boards and hanging up shelves or something.<br /><br />So I started watching a lot of Fuse TV. They had this "Up All Night" programming. Perfect for those of us with adrenal tumors and also I suspect meth addicts.<br /><br />A few years later, after me and my overly enthusiastic adrenal gland parted ways, Up All Night held onto its allure. At midnight, Pants Off Dance Off came on.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lW4twvH1-5E" width="459"></iframe><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">So Awkward.</div><br />One time I was up taking in a Pants Off Dance Off marathon. I perked up when I heard the song choice - <a href="https://youtu.be/Xu3FTEmN-eg" target="_blank">Galvanized by the Chemical Brothers</a>. A great adrenal-friendly music choice. And guess who the pancer is? It's this guy who lives around the corner. I was over his place once or twice to play the bass with his band.<br /><br />Shake it, neighbor guy.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-61032770534198477582017-11-20T22:55:00.002-05:002017-11-20T22:58:50.598-05:00Big news of the day - NaBloPoMo Day 20Some big news today and I'm not talking about how it snowed some in New Jersey this morning. And I'm also not talking about the bottle of Heinz 57 I found jammed in the back of the fridge which expired in 2007. I'm talking about the t-shirts that me and Derek made which are now on sale at your friendly local webstore:&nbsp;<a href="https://teespring.com/stores/scandinavian-social-club-of-ny">https://teespring.com/stores/scandinavian-social-club-of-ny</a><br /><br />These t-shirts have been in the works a super long time. It all began when I was in Gothenburg in&nbsp; Sweden in 2014. I wanted to buy a t-shirt with the city emblem on it-- a really cool lion. Except I did not want a "Gothenburg" shirt. I wanted a "Göteborg" shirt. Gothenburg is the tourist name. I wanted a Swedish t-shirt. Not an American tourist t-shirt. No. Where. To. Be. Found.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lOvec2D85uQ/WhOiGQ9wQoI/AAAAAAAA6-0/jRpObDYyKxsDnzoAujrD6WlRIqZjOtFhwCLcBGAs/s1600/lejon-tribal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="765" data-original-width="539" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lOvec2D85uQ/WhOiGQ9wQoI/AAAAAAAA6-0/jRpObDYyKxsDnzoAujrD6WlRIqZjOtFhwCLcBGAs/s320/lejon-tribal.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><br />So then I poked around in Stockholm for something cool. The only t-shirts I could find in Stockholm had New York City on them.<br /><br />Then, back home, I saw the "Keep Calm and Carry On" shirts, and I had the best idea ever-- an"Ingen fara på taket" T-shirt. Technically it means "There's no danger on the roof."<br /><br />At Fredags-øl last month, Felix did some research and the whole phrase originally was "Ingen fara på taken så länge skorstenen står." Meaning, There's no danger on the roof as long as the chimney is standing.<br /><br />I guess that might make a little more sense. Or maybe it doesn't, but it kind of feels like you could put it together if you thought about hard enough.<br /><br />Also why does how you say "chimney" in Swedish translate to "shoe stone." You can contemplate that while you're at it.<br /><br /><br />Buy a shirt, look as tres chic as I'm going to in 9-12 regular shipping days, and support our club!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XZrrDsCdn0U/WhOiNwTfz2I/AAAAAAAA6-4/y2WPpRhQlasyeyiA5XbtvnHNuO0eNFG7wCLcBGAs/s1600/screenshot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="882" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XZrrDsCdn0U/WhOiNwTfz2I/AAAAAAAA6-4/y2WPpRhQlasyeyiA5XbtvnHNuO0eNFG7wCLcBGAs/s320/screenshot.png" width="271" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://teespring.com/stores/scandinavian-social-club-of-ny">https://teespring.com/stores/scandinavian-social-club-of-ny</a></div><br />Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-14195617560143709292017-11-19T21:17:00.001-05:002017-11-19T21:17:35.155-05:00Amazon Subscribe & Save can be treacherous - NaBloPoMo Day 19We have a modest collection of laundry detergent. Tom says we're set through 2019. Such are the dangers of Amazon Subscribe &amp; Save.<br /><br />If you plan ahead and order on a schedule, you save like 15% off normal Amazon prices. You pick whether you want something delivered once a month or once every two months. In theory it's really quite terrific especially if you're somewhat of a serial obsessive.<br /><br />Think about it:<br /><br />* You save 15%<br />* Good for environment, lots of stuff comes in one box<br />* Like magic, things you need show up<br />* Save time, you only have to click to buy once instead of repeatedly<br /><br />Let me offer some advice: you don't want to be all hasty and slapdash when contemplating your household needs. I was feeling all Frau Badass nailing that submit button and now we have a closet full of moisturizer and nineteen bars of soap.<br /><br />Also, we're out of tea and vitamins and I staunchly refuse to pay full price mid-month. I can wait two weeks. It's the principle of the matter, not the five bucks.<br /><br />Ordering Subscribe &amp; Save requires a spreadsheet. One must track one's consumption prior to committing. One must also set a calendar reminder to go around and assess the pantry situation prior to the cut off date for order changes. If you miss the date, you will receive another box of goods whether you want them or not.<br /><br />Should there be a zombie apocalypse, see us for dishwasher detergent, chewing gum and steel cut oats.<br /><br />And yet, our cornucopia of extra toilet paper cannot overcome a major life challenge I'm facing right now. Here's a photo of the tea Wanda recommended and I love but which we are out of until November 29.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XJDwbhf2X1Q/WhI6ntL_SgI/AAAAAAAA69Q/rjfSRbovOpIAe5uTbbSIqFDHv9YlUF_PQCLcBGAs/s1600/screenshot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="844" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XJDwbhf2X1Q/WhI6ntL_SgI/AAAAAAAA69Q/rjfSRbovOpIAe5uTbbSIqFDHv9YlUF_PQCLcBGAs/s320/screenshot.png" width="250" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some pretty great Genmaicha Tea</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://amzn.to/2iwDyyJ">http://amzn.to/2iwDyyJ</a></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-12072397251098402312017-11-18T23:30:00.000-05:002017-11-19T19:46:53.606-05:00A Few Moments of Comedy at Dangerfields - NaBloPoMo Day 19One guy totally forgot his set. Another dude had a red hat at the ready for his lengthy "Donald Trump On The Campaign Trail in 2016" impression. An ophthalmologist rattled off a series of retina-based puns. There was an excess of rhyming spoken word poetry that was possibly supposed to be accapella rapping.<br /><br />I'd estimate 12-20 people took the stage. Three had potential. Another one dropped the mic, but it was an accident. Under no circumstances am I implying that we witnessed a mic drop.<br /><br />I said the whole thing felt like a non-gentle anthropological probe that I needed far more whiskey to understand. Tom described it as "A talent show with a two drink minimum and really expensive drinks." If you put these facts together, your conclusion should be that two drinks was not sufficient but we were not going to belly up for more, given the outrageous price point. Thus the ensuing consternation.<br /><br /><h3>Dangerfield Comedy Club Takeaways</h3><ul><li>Dangerfield Comedy Club does not have any sort of vetting process whatsoever.</li><li>"This crowd has gotten very old," said one of the comedians toward the ass-end of the pack. That was when I learned millennials are smarter than us. <br /><br />Everyone under the age of 30 had filtered themselves out the door by the seventh act.<br /><br />(We were there to support the host, and she was on until the bitter end. Plus I was mesmerized by the misplaced confidence on full-frontal display. Who are these people who think they're ready for a crowd after practicing in the bedroom mirror for a sadly insufficient length of time?)</li><li>Jokes about Heathcliff the Cat, especially when delivered in song, result in an audience shopping for boots on their phones under the table.</li><li>White people should under no circumstances use the n word. It's not funny or appropriate. Ever.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QO15S3WC9pg" width="480"></iframe></li></ul>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-79404076608267094532017-11-17T23:51:00.002-05:002017-11-17T23:51:18.882-05:00Where we're at NaBloPoMo - NaBloPoMo Day 17This is the NaBloPoMo rough patch, these middle-of-the-month days. My entire stockpile of ideas is tapped, but I'm not yet at the place where it's ok to post whatever the hell, like I'm totally fine with at the ass end of the month.<br /><br />But let's fast forward shall we, because it's 11:47PM and we just got back from dinner at Kubeh and drinks at Analogue with Helen and Matt.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-leJSQq2qK5A/Wg-7-Mnei2I/AAAAAAAA66U/Ye28E6b1bmUuYolIURUxPlLJoVfgOFRVACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-leJSQq2qK5A/Wg-7-Mnei2I/AAAAAAAA66U/Ye28E6b1bmUuYolIURUxPlLJoVfgOFRVACK4BGAYYCw/s200/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-636268370361735352017-11-16T21:49:00.002-05:002017-11-16T21:49:17.541-05:00Tom v Old Lady - NaBloPoMo Day 16The facts are, it's pretty impossible to win the lottery to get into the NYC Marathon if you live in NYC. Or anywhere else that is not exotic, at least in the eyes of race officials.<br /><br />The workaround is to do a "9+1." Meaning if you join the New York Road Runners club and, within one calendar year, run nine of their races and volunteer at one more, you auto-qualify for the marathon the following year.<br /><br />Tom decided he wants to run the marathon next year, so he signed on for the 9+1 plan.<br /><br />Last Saturday was Tom's "+1". He volunteered to help out at a <a href="http://www.nyrr.org/races-and-events/2017/abbott-dash-to-the-finish-line-5k-and-usatf-5k-championships" target="_blank">pretty massive 5k</a> in the park. This 5k is kind of a tradition. It happens the day before the marathon, so finishers cross the same finish line as the marathoners and run through the stands and all the hoopla set up for the marathon. Except they only have to run 5k instead of 26 miles so by all accounts this is a very clever maneuver.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a75izyjCiso/Wg5OGfe7duI/AAAAAAAA64w/oUoL0EGu9OEV3tx5-gV0f0O9AGb43LO-gCLcBGAs/s1600/DASH14_Dash01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="712" height="173" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a75izyjCiso/Wg5OGfe7duI/AAAAAAAA64w/oUoL0EGu9OEV3tx5-gV0f0O9AGb43LO-gCLcBGAs/s320/DASH14_Dash01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Tom got down to the race area at some ungodly hour. They gave him a fluorescent green reflective vest and a hat. Turns out, most of the volunteers did not get a vest. They just got the hat. So Tom was a very special volunteer. At least by all appearances. Someone told him to stand by the finish and make sure the area stayed clear of spectators, etc.<br /><br />Then the cops came by and closed the barricades around the finish line. Tom was now barricaded onto the race course. Which made him look even more special and official. A security guard asked him a question about what should go where. Tom shrugged and answered the question. More people started asking questions. Tom answered the questions. Tom starts feeling the power of his vest.<br /><br />At the very end of the race, an old lady moseys up with her walker and says she wants to cross the race course. Right at the finish line. Tom hooks his thumbs in his vest and says she has two options. She can wait until the ambulance goes by, meaning the race is over because the ambulance is behind all the runners. Or, she can go around the back of the finish line and cross that way, which wouldn't be far out of the old lady's way. He also points to the ambulance. It's coming around the corner and would be by in five minutes, tops.<br /><br />The old lady is pissed. She always crosses the park right here, she does not want to go around and she wants to cross immediately.<br /><br />Tom says it isn't safe to cross immediately, but if she waits four minutes....<br /><br />The old lady gives Tom the what for. She is ten shades of not happy. She tells him where he can stick his safety concerns. She tells him she always walks out into the middle of traffic.<br /><br />By that time the ambulance goes by. Tom strips off his fluorescent green reflective vest and it's Tom. Out.<br /><br />He has no idea what the old lady did, but he thinks she went out on the race course and wobbled across the finish line. He says he suspects that was her sneaky plan all along.<br /><br /><br />Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-10795910681971419662017-11-15T21:19:00.000-05:002017-11-15T22:04:25.636-05:00Poop on the Sidewalk - Hours of Fun -Poo NaBloPoMo Day 15<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qeql2RvTPqM/WgzwryniWyI/AAAAAAAA6ws/YylnVG9eFW0HgvnczR_9Tx15VUSX2RJdgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qeql2RvTPqM/WgzwryniWyI/AAAAAAAA6ws/YylnVG9eFW0HgvnczR_9Tx15VUSX2RJdgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_5185.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo of poop I texted out to the family</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I knew exactly what would happen as soon as I took this photo. Poop is subject matter certain people find mesmerizing. Everyone in my family, you see, fancies themselves an amateur <a href="https://www.thefreedictionary.com/scatologist" target="_blank">scatologist</a>.<br /><br />Moments after I hit send, my sister-in-law is on the scene: "Fox or a large cat."<br />Pop steps up: "3:1 - Fox, Raccoon."<br />Mom elbows in: "It’s not pointy enough to be fox poop."<br /><!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?--> <br /><div>Dad, with the rebuttal: "But it’s divided and rounded. Could easily be fox poop."</div><div>Mom comes back: "Coyote poop is a pretty good size."<br /><br /><br /><br />PS: In case you didn't know, the scatologists have a theme song. Here's my pop with a rendition:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/RR27uZcjiac/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RR27uZcjiac?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><br /></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-48720176197213503212017-11-14T21:13:00.003-05:002017-11-14T21:13:33.652-05:00Godspeed, sticky fingers - NaBloPoMo Day 14<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSsOJMf0nyU/WguiAwekxeI/AAAAAAAA6vE/iAnvYKBC8IkJpTHw79M5PQiq6_sNoNjAwCLcBGAs/s1600/hooked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1300" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSsOJMf0nyU/WguiAwekxeI/AAAAAAAA6vE/iAnvYKBC8IkJpTHw79M5PQiq6_sNoNjAwCLcBGAs/s320/hooked.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo credit:&nbsp;https://www.123rf.com/<br />photo_45691404_credit-card-phishing-attack.html</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Someone ripped off our credit card and had a fun day in Manhattan.<br /><br />First, they picked up a terrific new pair of expensive sneakers. No sense slumming around in crappy treads when you have big plans the afternoon.<br /><br />After that, it was off to Shake Shack for lunch. While enjoying a $50 mound of burgers and fries, it apparently seemed like a great idea to book an AirBnB out of town and hook the fambo up with some Amtrak tickets.<br /><br />Godspeed, sticky fingers.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rD9W2pUovQk/Wgug6m9OmjI/AAAAAAAA6u8/23QLo7XQx_4JMMEsML2zIBceCXRF-WYuwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rD9W2pUovQk/Wgug6m9OmjI/AAAAAAAA6u8/23QLo7XQx_4JMMEsML2zIBceCXRF-WYuwCK4BGAYYCw/s200/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-1809937327148867282017-11-13T20:35:00.000-05:002017-11-13T20:35:40.768-05:00The time i was (briefly) ahead of Shalane Flanagan - NaBloPoMo Day 13I was running on the Hudson River path. Turning in respectable sub-10s, jamming with my tunes, feeling pretty good. It was 2012,&nbsp; right after they canceled the New York Marathon in the wake of Hurricane Sandy.<br /><br />Suddenly, I felt a whoosh. Two ladies blew past my ass like I was standing still. And not only that, they were chatting, in normal voices, while they did so. I know one of them was Kara Goucher and I think the other one was Shalane Flanagan. I guess the two were out for a little jog. They had some time on their hands, being in town with no marathon and all.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oaPKy8a3kec/WgpIE-heq0I/AAAAAAAA6uo/A-IKup8iwwkVLGyeleKCK90JuW_dIa35ACLcBGAs/s1600/Kara%252BGoucher%252BShalane%252BFlanagan%252BQ49q2uTJWbbm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="360" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oaPKy8a3kec/WgpIE-heq0I/AAAAAAAA6uo/A-IKup8iwwkVLGyeleKCK90JuW_dIa35ACLcBGAs/s320/Kara%252BGoucher%252BShalane%252BFlanagan%252BQ49q2uTJWbbm.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photocredit:&nbsp;http://www.zimbio.com/<br />Kara+Goucher+Shalane+Flanagan/pictures/pro</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />My only point is that I ahead of Shalane Flanagan.<br /><br />Briefly.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-1865753667133668012017-11-12T20:07:00.000-05:002017-11-14T08:12:05.713-05:00Thor in FiDi with Stacie and Andy - NaBloPoMo Day 12On Friday, the temperature plummeted. And the movie theater was the whole way down by Battery Park, almost on the water. Meaning one cold-ass trek overland after we got out of the subway. During the frigid journey, I overcame potential frostbite with mittens, a scarf, my winter jacket and NSFW language.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cfXKq-HN05A/WgpEzuOV_PI/AAAAAAAA6uc/XAQj0cmMSVgbHUSrOHABPSVgb12Ob3S8QCLcBGAs/s1600/1worldtrade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cfXKq-HN05A/WgpEzuOV_PI/AAAAAAAA6uc/XAQj0cmMSVgbHUSrOHABPSVgb12Ob3S8QCLcBGAs/s320/1worldtrade.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Despite arctic conditions, it was pretty cool <br />to walk by&nbsp;<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">One World Trade all lit up</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I didn't bother to ask why Stacie and Andy wanted to see Thor all the way down in the hinterlands of Manhattan. It's not exactly like that sassy savage Chris Hemsworth cannot be found on the big screen in midtown.&nbsp; I figured Stacie and Andy had a reason.<br /><br />And sure enough, it was a good reason.<br /><br />You should have seen these theater seats. Totally plush. They had buttons for varied reclining and a lot of square footage. Plus a tray with a cup holder. If this place ever needs a new business model, they could rent out for naps.<br /><br />Plus the lobby of this joint looked like this:<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Af_T-1KUvnk/WgjoNpCQZQI/AAAAAAAA6t0/qwnj3S4kEVshqlNWPMn1cn_YqPqat3d8QCLcBGAs/s1600/conradhotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="750" height="299" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Af_T-1KUvnk/WgjoNpCQZQI/AAAAAAAA6t0/qwnj3S4kEVshqlNWPMn1cn_YqPqat3d8QCLcBGAs/s320/conradhotel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very fancy lobby in the theater which is <br />actually somehow connected to the Conrad Hotel.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I walked out feeling all first-world first-class, but then my reverie crumbled because I remembered the outdoor thermometer problem. It was not at all fancy to dash around a darkened frozen FiDi tundra. But, Andy with the save.<br /><br />He knows how to get the whole way from the West Side Highway all the way to the subway stop <i>indoors. </i>I didn't even put my coat on it was so pleasant. We went through the Brookfield Mall and the Wintergarden and then into this passageway into the future:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-feCIi_1WJBg/WgjuEm_RcbI/AAAAAAAA6uM/OQXEtjx1yEc6KG9WZRDA-LUbnPT8xZb-wCLcBGAs/s1600/oculus%2Bpathway.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1020" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-feCIi_1WJBg/WgjuEm_RcbI/AAAAAAAA6uM/OQXEtjx1yEc6KG9WZRDA-LUbnPT8xZb-wCLcBGAs/s320/oculus%2Bpathway.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />....which put us into the Oculus, a powerful selfie-magnet, even at midnight. After a brief stop by a weird tubby looking contraption hawking some kind of glasses-related product I did not understand because clearly I'm not the right target market generation, we continued our journey.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-irUTafCMWpU/Wgjsnn6yutI/AAAAAAAA6uA/Y5JHcMOItrsN6Y1JqlPjjdu4Td7e_y1bQCLcBGAs/s1600/oculusDNA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-irUTafCMWpU/Wgjsnn6yutI/AAAAAAAA6uA/Y5JHcMOItrsN6Y1JqlPjjdu4Td7e_y1bQCLcBGAs/s320/oculusDNA.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photocredit:&nbsp;https://www.dnainfo.com/new-york/<br />20161219/financial-district/<br />e-train-entrance-opens-inside-world-trade-center-oculus</td></tr></tbody></table><br />In no time, we made it into the new Fulton Street Subway station. It would have been better if we'd all worn our sleekest white neoprene space outfits.Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-42204609676018746362017-11-11T14:21:00.004-05:002017-11-12T18:11:38.447-05:00My Listeria Summer, courtesy of Amrita Health Foods - NaBloPoMo Day 11<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gqywg94YWzQ/WgdNTjfavJI/AAAAAAAA6tk/NPvFMdgI-XgHp-GtQrrHRl0EwP1BOeBeACLcBGAs/s1600/ucm570122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gqywg94YWzQ/WgdNTjfavJI/AAAAAAAA6tk/NPvFMdgI-XgHp-GtQrrHRl0EwP1BOeBeACLcBGAs/s320/ucm570122.jpg" width="153" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apple, Cinnamon and Listeria Bar <br />from Amrita</td></tr></tbody></table>Erin suggested I actually accomplish something useful with this NaBloPoMo timesuck. She pointed out that I could write a blog post documenting my queasy summer as a public service announcement:<br /><br />For like two solid months, I had this flu that wouldn't quit. It was a real bitch of a flu featuring electrifyingly terrible headaches, dizziness, nausea, and super stiff muscles.<br /><br />The worst part was, just when I'd start to shake it, there'd be a relapse. Over and over again.&nbsp; Finally I went to the doctor. He said I did not have the flu. He said it looked to him like a food-borne illness. He scribbled me a prescription for antibiotics.<br /><br />Maybe a week later, I get this email from Amazon:<br /><br /><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;; font-size: 12px;">Greetings from&nbsp;</span><a href="http://amazon.com/" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-size-adjust: auto;">Amazon.com</a><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;; font-size: 12px;">.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;; font-size: 12px;">We have learned of a potential safety issue that may impact product(s) you purchased through&nbsp;</span><a href="http://amazon.com/" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">Amazon.com</a><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;; font-size: 12px;">:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;; font-size: 12px;"><b>HIGH PROTEIN Variety Pack - Pack of 12 bars by Amrita</b></span></div><!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?--> <br /><div><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot;; font-size: 12px;">More details:</span>&nbsp;<a href="https://www.fda.gov/Safety/Recalls/ucm569811.htm" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">https://www.fda.gov/Safety/Recalls/ucm569811.htm</a></div><br /><br /><br />I click through on the link:<br /><br /><h1 style="-en-clipboard: true; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 30px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Amrita Health Foods Voluntarily Recalls Protein Bars For Possible Health Risk</span></h1><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Amrita Health Foods is recalling … Amrita Bars because they have the potential to be <b>contaminated with&nbsp;</b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic;"><b>Listeria monocytogenes</b></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><b>,</b> an organism which can cause serious and <b>sometimes fatal infections</b> ...&nbsp;</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Although healthy individuals may <b>suffer only short-term symptoms such as high fever, severe headache, stiffness, nausea, abdominal pain and diarrhea.</b></span></div></div><!--?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?--> <br /><div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><b>No confirmed illnesses have been reported to public health authorities to date.</b></span></div><br /><br /><br />Seriously? I'd been eating these damn infected bars all summer, which is why I endlessly felt like shit. I kept re-poisoning myself every single time I got the munchies for a convenient protein snack.<br /><br /><h3>Things about this whole listeria episode that really rubbed my bacteria-soaked brain cells the wrong way</h3><ol><li>The email advisory came from <i>Amazon</i> (god bless 'em), not Amrita. And it came <i>five day</i>s after Amrita notified the FDA of the problem. In that five days, I ate at least one Amrita bar, needlessly endangering my health. <br /><br />If I had not purchased these bars from Amazon, I might still be sick as a dog. But it would merely be a twelve-pack of "only" short-term side effects, clearly nothing much to worry about except if you're some kind of whiner who thinks high fevers, severe headaches, stiffness, nausea, abdominal pain and diarrhea are a bit of a concern.<br /><br />(Fifty big points for Amazon in this whole transaction.)<br /><br /></li><li>I get emails all the blessed time from Amazon vendors desperately begging me to rate and review their products or offering tips or trying to get me to sign up for some mailing list or another. <br /><br />Random little purveyors of essential oils, shoe inserts and super balls can manage to figure out how to use their Amazon dashboard to communicate with their customers but Amrita doesn't bother when their products <i>are contaminated with Listeria</i>?<br /><br /></li><li>The last line in the FDA notice -- "No confirmed illnesses have been reported" --&nbsp; really got me. So I set about to file a report. First, I called the Amrita phone number listed on the notice. No answer after multiple attempts.<br /><br /></li><li>So then I went on the Amrita website and filled out their "contact us" form, explaining that I had a 'confirmed illness' complete with a doctor's note and everything.<br /><br />No reply. Seriously. No. Reply. <br /><br />None. <br /><br />This Amrita company didn't even bother to send an email with a so-super-sorry grovel and a coupon or some kind of pluck-your-heartstrings attempt to get me to not write blog posts like this one.</li></ol>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32864730.post-793974409793665702017-11-10T17:30:00.000-05:002017-11-10T17:37:44.693-05:00Counting Problems - NaBloPoMo Day 10We walk into the restaurant-- Kristina, Alex, Petrina and me. Probably, it's at least 10pm.<br /><br />The hostess asks, "How many?"<br />I reply, "Three."<br /><br />We get to the table and the hostess has three menus.<br /><br />Four of us sit down.<br /><br />The hostess looks confused. Like maybe our party picked up a stray on the way across the dining room. She says, "I thought there were three of you?"<br /><br />I say, "Oh right. I took a visual headcount and so I forgot to count myself."<br /><br />The hostess has the grace not to roll her eyes. She goes and gets another menu.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GGxrFDLb-PM/WgYnxcVF7fI/AAAAAAAA6tY/JqEF2Gyw46EbPlzWa4AvjTWDcrXrcyfugCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GGxrFDLb-PM/WgYnxcVF7fI/AAAAAAAA6tY/JqEF2Gyw46EbPlzWa4AvjTWDcrXrcyfugCK4BGAYYCw/s200/NaBloPoMo2017-link-up-party.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Stacey Rhttps://plus.google.com/113883826469642769655noreply@blogger.com0